


Bzz

by Wolven_Spirits



Series: Humming and Buzzing [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, Fluff and Humor, Hummingbird animagus!Harry, M/M, Sequel Drabbles, florist!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2020-10-11 22:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20553743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: Harry loves flowers and Tom. Probably not in that order?Sequel drabbles to 'Hmm'





	1. Settling

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the ever-amazing [Moonlight-Modoki](https://moonlight-modoki.tumblr.com) ([Wiegenlied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wiegenlied)), without whom these drabbles probably would not have happened.

Tom looked up from his flowers as the sound of buzzing reached his ears. “Welcome home, Harry,” he murmured as he lifted a gloved hand. Moments later a tiny bee-sized bird landed on the tip of his finger. It stretched its wings out and let out the tiniest of yawns, before settling down and staring up at him with expectant eyes.

Harry had moved in with Tom a year after they had started dating, into the flat above the flower shop. At this point the flowers had climbed their way up the building, creating a plant haven for Harry as well as for a myriad of butterflies and bees. Harry loved it, and the impressive sight drew many customers, which pleased Tom.

Most days, Harry walked home after work. But when he was particularly tired, he would fly home, too exhausted to deal with the lingering crowds of Diagon Alley.

Tom smiled indulgently at Harry, closing the shop door with a flick of his wand and carrying his love up the stairs and onto the large balcony at the back of their house. It was a veritable jungle of plants more than anything, but there was space for a table and a couple of chairs within all of the greenery, and that was enough for Tom.

“The Lion Roses bloomed,” he informed Harry, who let out a pleased croon. Opening the large glass doors, Tom deposited Harry on the aforementioned plant. It shuddered and let out a soft roar, but otherwise did not object to the presence of the miniature hummingbird.

Then Tom took a seat in one of the chairs and relaxed, content as the sun set slowly and Harry buzzed about his flowers.


	2. Searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to [Boysenberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boysenberry/pseuds/boysenberry). Thank you for the insanely cute prompt!

Tom woke slowly, not quite sure when he’d fallen asleep. He lifted his head from the table where an untouched dinner had gotten cold. He frowned, annoyed that he hadn’t remembered to cast a preservation charm beforehand. He checked his watch and noted that it was almost two hours past dinner time. How in Merlin’s name had he slept so long in such an uncomfortable position?

He stretched his shoulders and rotated his neck until it cracked. Then he stood. “Harry?” he called, a frown tugging at his brows. Normally his partner was home very promptly. Every once in a while he got held up for a few minutes, but if it was any longer than half an hour, he always sent a note.

Tom checked the window, but there was no owl waiting to deliver a message from Harry.

Lips pursed, Tom double-checked each room, calling for his love as he did so. His motions get increasingly erratic with each room that turned up empty.

He slammed the bedroom door closed behind him and checked the balcony for the third time before jogging down the stairs into the shop. The lights were off, as Tom had closed early that day in order to work on his latest flower. He paused for a moment, but the room was silent. He flicked the lights on with his wand, then carefully checked each plant, peering into all of the blooms. He checked Harry’s favourites twice, his teeth grinding when still: nothing.

His sweet Harry was not curled up in his favourite chair, a book on the floor where he’d dropped it as he’d fallen asleep.

Nor was he buzzing around his favourite flowers, chirping at Tom with his usual enthusiasm.

Two hours. Harry was two hours late.

Tom clenched his fists. Harry was a grown man. He was talented and intelligent. He could take care of himself.

But -

He always told Tom if he had to stay out late.

Had something gone wrong? Had he been attacked? Was he injured, waiting in the hospital for Tom, wondering why he wasn’t there yet?

With a snarl, Tom whirled around and grabbed his cloak. He threw it over his shoulders and could barely be bothered to clasp it closed before racing to the door. He would check Harry’s workplace first. If he wasn’t there, he would hunt down Longbottom. The stuttering boy was good friends with Harry. And if _he_ didn’t know where Harry was…

His grip on his wand tightened and his eyes darkened. Tom would make sure that no one could ever harm Harry.

He shut the door of his shop behind him and turned to tap his wand on the handle, locking it. He turned back to the street when something soft and high caught his ear. He froze, his head jerking to the left.

He had heard it. He knew he had. He stepped once, then twice, as the sound grew louder. He flicked his wand as a gaggle of shoppers passed nearby, encasing himself and the shop in a bubble of silence.

With the spell in effect, the sound was wonderfully clear. Tom glanced down and felt a swell of relief within his chest.

For there, tucked into a large bloom, was Harry, fast asleep and snoring.

Tom closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep breath. Relief, sweet and warm, spread throughout his body, his hands trembling as he forced his racing heart to calm. Because Harry was here. He was fine. He was safe.

He reached down and gently plucked the flower, cradling the precious cargo gently in his hands. Really, his Harry was such a handful, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tom placed the flower in a small vase next to the bed, ensuring that Harry was safely nestled within. Then he crawled in and turned off the lights, Harry’s soft snores lulling him to sleep.


	3. Wayward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is dedicated to the amazing [Noni](https://twitter.com/tomarrymort). Thank you for the incredible art and prompt!!

“And really,” Tom continued his rather one-sided conversation as they strolled down Diagon Alley, for Harry had long since fallen silent, “the mixture of pixie dust and fireworm manure in the soil _should_ have produced a stronger blue in the petals, but I believe it might have been the ground pearl that made it turn that vivid red instead…” he trailed off as a group of witches glanced his way and giggled.

He frowned. He was used to receiving attention, but it was usually of the positive sort. Not that he particularly cared about what they thought of him. Really, it was Harry’s opinion that mattered most. But still, he did have a sterling reputation that he preferred to maintain, as it kept his business thriving.

He turned and glanced at Harry, only to find that - well. Harry wasn’t there anymore.

Ah.

No wonder.

Tom thought about being annoyed at his love, but decided against it. Because as he squinted, looking further down the alley near Madame Malkin’s, he could see Harry’s unmistakable animagus form fluttering about the freshly potted flowers.

They were not as nice as _his_ flowers, of course, but they were nonetheless quite lovely in their varying shades of purple and pink. And Harry could never resist a beautiful flower. Tom would know. It was how he had won him over, after all. And while it irked Tom that Harry would look at anyone else’s flowers when he had all of Tom’s at home… well, Tom had fallen in love with Harry’s passion. To curb it would be to lose part of who Harry was.

And Tom wanted _all_ of Harry. Including the parts that made him so irresistibly drawn to flowers.

His lips twitched upwards fondly as he strolled in Harry’s direction. He wasn’t exactly surprised by Harry’s sudden departure, in all honesty. But really, Harry could have at least warned him so that he didn’t look like such a fool talking to himself.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a large yellow flower, the petals drifting in a breeze that wasn’t really there. It was larger than his hand and tipped a dark orange. He tapped it with his wand and watched in satisfaction as it puffed a cloud of beautiful scent. Subtle enough that Tom could barely smell it, but for someone like Harry…

He only had to wait a few breaths before the sound of buzzing reached his ears. Tom smirked as Harry’s form fluttered before him, already looking to land somewhere on the flower. He held it up and Harry chirped, a delighted sound. Which was good, because this flower was still a prototype, but he had hoped that it would attract the attention of his often-wayward love.

He waited until Harry was safely nestled upon one of the petals before turning it to face him. Then he continued walking.

“As I was saying…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What’s this one?” Harry asked, sounding a little dazed as he stared at the flower that was larger than his head.
> 
> Tom glanced over. “Harry bait.”


	4. Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is dedicated to the amazing [Fermioncat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FermionCat/pseuds/FermionCat) who gave me a lovely prompt and introduced me to the beauty of sunlight diffracting through a hummingbird's wings. Thank you.

Tom strolled along the water’s edge, the waves lapping at his bare ankles. The water was cold but the sun was hot and each step was wonderfully cool against his skin. He had rolled up his trousers and for once did not think about the way the water splashed against the folds of the fabric, staining it dark, or the way the sand threaded between his toes, certain to be a nuisance to clean off.

He stood there for a moment, taking pleasure in the way the sand sunk around his feet as the water pulled away. There was something very liberating about an empty beach and the large, all-consuming sea. It was certainly a welcome break from the crowded bustling of Diagon Alley.

Just as he was about to take another step he felt something small and thin nudge his neck. Then a tiny beak nibbled gently upon his earlobe. Immediately a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Hm?” He said, tilting his head to the side, careful not to move too quickly lest he jostle the precious cargo he carried.

An excited chirp rang in his ear and Tom glanced to his right, spotting a large patch of wildflowers where the sand met the grass. They rose up the lazy, rolling hill, peppering it in small, cheerful dots. The flowers swayed lazily in the sea breeze, a multitude of colours that flashed appealingly. He was sure that to Harry’s keen sense, they smelled divine.

“Of course,” he murmured, not needing to raise his voice to be heard. He turned and headed towards the flowers, smiling slightly as he felt the excited buzz of Harry’s wings next to his neck.

He took a seat on a nearby log and watched as Harry buzzed from his shoulder over to the flowers, chirping excitedly.

The cool ocean wind brushed against his cheeks as he leaned back, his eyes tracking Harry’s quick, darting movements. Harry was small, but even among the insects that sped through the air, he could track Harry’s motions with little trouble. His love sped from flower to flower, his feathers shimmering in the sunlight, prettier than all the flowers Tom could see.

Then Harry soared upwards into the light and it was as if time had stopped. The sun shone, fierce and hot, and as Harry cut across its beams, for a moment the world held still, an eternity within that one breath.

Harry’s wings flashed in brilliant rainbow, as if the beauty of the world was trapped in his feathers for only Tom to see. Pierced by the rays of the sun, the feathers glimmered iridescent with a beauty that even magic could not replicate.

His breath hitched and for that moment he could not breathe, his eyes wide, his thoughts stuttering to a stop. A sense of unadulterated awe filled him and overwhelmed him as his heart thumped, audible in his chest. And all he could think was —

_Harry_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re the beautiful one,” he said as if it was the most obvious truth in the world.
> 
> Tom fought his blush, turning away so that Harry could not see.


	5. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final drabble. Continuation of Fermioncat's prompt. 
> 
> Thank you everyone for reading and following this little, buzzing journey.

Tom cursed as he stared at the flower in his hands. It was so _close_ to perfect. It was the sixth iteration of the same flower, and this time he had truly expected to succeed. To capture the marvel of Harry’s feathers as the sun cut through them.

Over and over, the sight of Harry flying across the light and glowing with beauty unparalleled replayed in his mind, and Tom wished fervently to recreate the wonder that he had seen. Except that he couldn’t. Each one was a failure. Never before had he been unable to achieve his goal. Never had he encountered anything he could not do.

Nothing had been impossible to him… until now.

He cursed again, his fingers tightening around the stem. He was about to throw it to the ground when a smaller hand reached over, brushing feather-light against his fist.

“Tom,” said Harry, green eyes gentled, a faint wrinkle of concern marring his brow. And oh how Tom hated to see anything other than a smile upon his face. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, guiding the flower back down onto his work table.

Lips thinning, Tom glared at the shimmering petals. So close, but _not quite right_.

“Tom?”

He glanced up and shook his head. “It is nothing,” he said, smoothing his expression.

Harry gave him a look that conveyed just how much he believed Tom’s words. Which was to say: not at all.

“You have been in this room for over twenty-four hours and I bet you didn’t even eat the meal I left by the door.” Harry crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

Tom felt a pang of guilt as he glanced at the plate. It was covered and still warm, preserved by magic, and very much untouched. He glanced back at Harry, who looked at him expectantly.

He gave a small sigh, his shoulders slumping minutely. “I cannot seem to make it quite right,” he said, gesturing at the flower. “I cannot seem to perfect it.” He made a noise of disgruntlement, disliking the fact that he was admitting to such a failure out loud. Only to Harry would he ever utter such words.

Harry hummed softly, bending down to peer at the flower. It was sparsely petaled, unlike most of his creations. Each petal was vaguely translucent, white in colour but for the shimmering rainbow that burst forth at certain angles.

But it did not glow the way Harry’s wings did. It did not swell with power and beauty as he had intended.

Still, Harry smiled the smile he always did when faced with one of Tom’s creations. As if Tom had made the world itself and not just a plant. Tom felt warmth in his heart despite the evidence of his failure.

Then, without warning, Harry grabbed the flower and danced back as Tom stepped forward in surprise.

“Harry?” He said, a frown settling upon his brow. “What are you doing?” He asked as his love stepped back again, a grin forming on his face.

“You’ll have to come find out,” said Harry, a laugh following his statement as he ducked from the room. Tom heard the quick pattering of his feet down the hall and immediately gave chase.

He wanted to be annoyed. Harry tended to be rather unpredictable and for all Tom knew, his love was about to apparate to one of his friends and show them the flower. Or perhaps to an herbologist to see if they would breed it. Harry was wonderfully supportive and also rather rash, jumping in before everything was quite ready.

He heard quick, light footsteps race up the stairs and followed suit. Harry was fast, and Tom was not sure that he could catch him if he chose to apparate out, but Harry was not headed for the door. In fact, he was headed —

Tom dashed around the corner, his blood rushing as he raced to the balcony, lurching forward just as Harry crouched.

But Tom was just a little too slow and he saw the wings burst from Harry’s back, saw him bend and launch upwards, his wings buzzing loudly, his hair ruffled and blended with shimmering feathers that sprouted in his partial transformation.

Harry was smiling as he held the flower up in the sunlight, allowing Tom to see the way it refracted light in a beautiful array of colours.

But Tom could barely pay attention to his creation, for he was caught by the sight of Harry, haloed by the sun, glowing like magic itself as he smiled down at Tom, his eyes bright as life itself, swirls of magic enveloping him.

It was then that Tom realized why he would never be satisfied with his flower. Because nothing — _nothing_ could compare to Harry’s beauty. And in the end, Tom thought that perhaps that was for the best. Because Tom knew then that he wanted Harry all for himself. Couldn’t bear the thought of someone else seeing Harry just as he did.

And it was selfish of him, perhaps. But at this moment, as Harry laughed, swirling the flower and lowering himself so that he could grasp Tom’s outreached hand, Tom couldn’t bring himself to care.

He loved Harry. He loved Harry with all his heart, and Harry loved him, and that was a magic that would always be theirs alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Are you going to make more of this one?” Harry asked as he twirled the iridescent flower in his hand.
> 
> “There’s no need,” Tom replied, with eyes only for Harry’s smile.

**Author's Note:**

> “Here,” Tom tucked the plucked bloom into the pocket of Harry’s shirt. It grumbled for a moment, then began purring as it settled against Harry’s chest. Really, his flowers always seemed to love Harry best.


End file.
